Page 103 of The Time of My Afterlife

‘I’m sorry.’

With a shrug, he says, ‘Her loss. I invited her. That’s the main thing.’

We stand for a few moments, watching all our friends enjoy the barbecue. I lean against him and he strokes my hair.

A thought pushes its way to the front of my mind. ‘Children – would you have wanted them?’

‘Of course. If we couldn’t have them for whatever reason that would be okay too as we would have cat children.’

I let out a groan. ‘Cats – really?’

He nods. ‘Or dogs. Our house would have been a noisy but happy place.’

I look at him. ‘I love you, Clark Fielding.’

‘I love you, Florence Hill.’

42

CLARK

Pearl is a little tipsy.

‘Clark,’ she beams, leaning into me at my garden table. ‘My favourite neighbour and friend.’

‘Hello, Pearl,’ I say, sitting next to her. My heart lets out a series of aches as I think about how she’s soon going to lose me as a neighbour. Seeing Laura sit with her tonight has eased my fears a little as I know she will pop in to check in on her, but I’ll miss her friendship, our conversations about the failings of her late husband and her love for a good bottle of wine. Emotion builds inside of me. ‘You’ve been a great friend to me, Pearl,’ I croak.

She rubs my arm. ‘We have a laugh – don’t we? Everyone at my church crochet club thinks we’re in a relationship.’

I arch an eyebrow. ‘Really?’

She giggles. ‘I love how the ladies at crochet think, at seventy-five, I am capable of dating a handsome thirty-one-year-old.’

‘I hope you’ve corrected them.’ I chuckle.

She smiles. ‘Of course, but some of those old dears have vivid imaginations.’

We both giggle and drink some wine.

‘I have been meaning to ask you, Clark – why isn’t your mother here tonight?’

I sigh. ‘She’s not speaking to me.’

Pearl is studying my face. ‘You told her about your dad, didn’t you?’

‘Yes.’

‘Well, that’s sad. I hope one day she doesn’t regret that.’

I look away and try not to think about tomorrow night.

‘How is your dad?’

The thought of him makes me smile. ‘He’s good. We message each other a lot.’

She rubs my hand. ‘Carry on building a bridge with him. I can tell by your face that he means a lot to you.’

Guilt nibbles away at me. ‘I didn’t talk to him for ten years.’